


The Sixty Four Thousand Dollar Question about the 5000 Piece Puzzle

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed silly that a title used by so many people, often directed at him, would sound almost intimate coming from her lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sixty Four Thousand Dollar Question about the 5000 Piece Puzzle

“Hey, I'm here.” Rafael walked through the door and sat down at the bar.

“I was just about to give up on you, Counselor.” She turned, smiling at him.

“My meeting ran late and there was an accident about three blocks from here. It looked like a hit and run; there were officers everywhere and they were shutting down the cross streets. I just gave up and paid the cab. I walked from there.” He motioned the bartender over with his hand. “Glenfiddich please.”

“I honestly thought you forgot about me. I considered harassing you by text but know how busy you’ve been.”

“I've been waiting for this all day…I've been waiting for this since Monday. Do you want to get a table; I'm starving.”

The bartender put down Rafael’s drink and he sipped it. He wanted to know if any tables were available. La Cienega wasn’t quite a reservations only establishment but even on a Thursday evening it could fill up quickly.

“There are four available.” The bartender, Elise, told him after talking to a server. “You want a table for two or just one?”

“Two is good.” Olivia replied. “I can eat.”

“It’s on me…I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“I can buy my own dinner, Counselor. You're not on the hook for anything.”

“I hate being late.” He mumbled, drinking again. Rafael relished the scotch sliding down his throat. If there was one reason to bring back some of the aesthetics from the past it was to make drinking in the afternoon a thing again. Who decided it wasn’t a good idea until after six? “I've been off this entire week, as if my watch is losing time and I…no, I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I never said I didn’t want to hear about it.” Olivia said.

“We talk about work too much.”

“I don’t plan to argue with you there.”

“Alright, so no talk of work tonight. We will talk about anything but work.”

“I think you might fail miserably.” She laughed some. Her wine was running low, they needed to hurry with that table.

“Is that a dare?”

“Maybe.”

“It is or it isn't, Detective.”

“It is.” Olivia liked the way he called her Detective sometimes. The ADA rarely used her first name at all. She called him by his last name or by Counselor. He always called her Detective. Liv could actually figure out his moods by how he said it. Strange that she didn’t realize that until just now.

“Your table is ready.” Elise told them. “Jack will you take you to it and I’ll just add the drinks to that bill.”

“Thanks.”

Olivia grabbed her jacket and purse as they followed the server into the restaurant. There was a fair sized crowd there tonight but somehow the atmosphere always remained calm. It wasn’t an overly romantic place, though it might be for some couples. It was definitely above a “rush in after seeing a movie” joint. They ate there together a lot; the bartenders knew them and so did some of the wait staff. 

She didn’t want to call it their place though someone else might and not be far off. Did they have places? Had they gotten to that point yet? How did one get there without knowing and making a conscious decision? Sometimes, just once in a while in the back of Liv’s mind, it felt like they were dating. 

She didn’t enjoy anyone else’s company like she did his. They talked, laughed, and sometimes bickered as they shook off long days of law and order in New York City. They even, and Liv didn’t tell anyone about this, played words with friends on nights when both had trouble sleeping. He was currently creaming her but she was planning a comeback. Rafael held out the chair for her before they both sat.

“Shall I refill your wine, ma'am?” the server asked while laying out the menus.

“Thank you.” Olivia looked at Rafael when they were alone again. “So what's going on?”

“How do you mean?”

“You wanted to talk tonight…you don’t want to talk about work. Tell me what's going on.”

“My friend Sally called me this morning to let me know that I'd won the online Sotheby’s auction of some books I was trying to get my hands on. That was good news.”

“What books?” Olivia asked.

“A first edition boxed set of Ira Levin novels. There are two that I still haven’t read, though I doubt I'm ever going to find the time. These books aren’t for reading though. First editions go on the bookshelf. I download books to read these days.”

“Ira Levin wrote _Rosemary’s Baby_ , right? I read it in high school.”

“Yes.” Rafael nodded. “He also wrote _The Stepford Wives_ , _Sliver_ , and _The Boys from Brazil_. He was a brilliant writer, one of my favorites.”

“Which book is your favorite?” Olivia asked.

“ _A Kiss Before Dying_ , hands down.” Rafael replied. “But I'm partial to _This Perfect Day_ and _The Stepford Wives_. _The Boys from Brazil_ is a masterpiece. I love them all. He only wrote seven novels in his career and all of them are brilliant. It’s a biased opinion but I'm sticking to it.”

“My mother loved _The Stepford Wives_.” Olivia said. “I don’t know if she ever read the book; she was an English professor though so she probably had. We watched the movie so many times together when I was younger. Have you ever seen a movie so many times that you swear never again?”

“ _Victor/Victoria_ , but I was just lying to myself. Did your mother pass away, Detective?”

“Hmm?”

“Did your mother pass away?” he repeated the question though was well aware she heard it the first time.

The server was back with wine and ready to take their order. Olivia wasn’t too hungry so she ordered the grilled calamari appetizer and French fries. Rafael took some time looking over the menu, settling on the 6 oz. steak, medium rare, with the Cajun catfish and artichoke. He looked to Olivia again as the server smiled and walked away.

“She died 13 years ago.” She said.

“You don’t talk about her very much.”

“Remind me of the last time we had an in-depth conversation about your mother. Mothers are a very long conversation…I'm not sure we have that kind of time.”

“I don’t plan on walking out anytime soon, Detective.” The ADA looked at his watch.

She was tempted to ask him to call her by her first name. It wasn’t Detective, it was Olivia. Liv would do in a pinch. They were friends and they were off the clock, why put that distance between them? Sometimes he wore the detective shield better than she did.

“Mothers are a very long conversation.” She repeated. “Fathers are even longer, and the time I pretended to be a vegetarian to impress a guy for 6 weeks is practically unexplainable.”

“I did that once.” Rafael smiled. “With me it was ice hockey, which in hindsight was incredibly stupid. I broke my wrist and have a permanent cap on my front tooth.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.” Rafael replied, finishing his scotch. “Which is too old for those kinds of shenanigans. I was a bit of a late bloomer in some respects.”

“I wasn’t.” Olivia shook her head.

“I made up for lost time rather quickly.”

“Did you even study at Harvard, Counselor?”

“Every once in a while.” He smiled that mischievous grin. That was the one that had gotten him in and out of trouble for years.

She never called him by his first name and Rafael often wondered why. In the courtroom, the squad room, it was understandable. But when they were alone she still called him Counselor. He liked it; didn’t quite know why but he did. It seemed silly that a title used by so many people, often directed at him, would sound almost intimate coming from her lips.

“You never told me where you went to school.” He said.

“Siena College, in Albany.” She said.

“Really? Saints don’t want a generic education.”

“When I was there we were still the Indians; the controversy around changing it was building as I was graduating. I'm not even going to ask you how you know that slogan.”

“Did you play sports?” Rafael asked.

“I played field hockey my sophomore and junior year. I opted out for senior year and dressed but barely played as a freshman. Field hockey wasn’t just fun, it helped me find better ways to cope with frustration. It helped with humility. It taught me that some things were worth going to the grass for, hard, but others weren't. I learned teamwork, leadership skills, and how to be a better lush because not too many girls party harder than field hockey girls.”

“So why not play for one more year?”

‘There was more for me to do. I was in clubs and had outside activities going on. I kept busy and when you're an athlete the only thing allowed to keep you busy other than class is practice and game time. I’d done that for a few years so I was ready for something else.”

“What did you study?”

“I majored in Sociology, minored in Criminal Justice and women’s studies.” Olivia replied. “I took enough psych classes to declare a minor in that as well but didn’t. I didn’t realize until senior year and wasn’t in the mood for the paperwork and approval by the department head.”

“Did you always know you wanted to be a cop?” Rafael asked.

The server returned with their meal. Just the aroma made Rafael’s mouth water. He asked for a double Glenfiddich this time around; a meal like this needed to be enjoyed with a full bodied drink. Olivia was free to eat with her fingers, which he planned to watch her do without being too obvious. Rafael unwrapped his knife and fork, tucking the cloth napkin into his shirt.

“I wanted to be an advocate for women and children. I knew that I didn’t want to be a lawyer. For a while I thought I might end up at a non-profit, maybe doing something more social work oriented. It was in my junior year, during an internship, that I got interested in police work.”

“How so?”

“Well, I worked for a program that helped shelter, rehouse, or relocate women and kids who left domestic violence situations. I saw how often these women were neglected by the police…how they were re-victimized by the system. The women and men I worked for were amazing advocates but many days ended in frustration because the system wasn’t changing. I decided the best way to change it was to be a part of it. Some days I don’t know if I was right or wrong.”

“You're the best cop I know.” He said.

“I bet you say that to all the cops you know.” She smiled, eating a French fry.

“Oh how wrong you are, Detective Benson.”

They ate in silence for a while. The man really enjoyed food and good liquor. She didn’t know much about how he grew up, maybe he came from that kind of family. Rafael Barba was still a mystery to her, an enigma. She knew too many lawyers and he wasn’t like any of them. 

He wasn’t like anyone else she knew either. He seemed hell bent on winning, but what was he trying to win. Trials? Life? Olivia just couldn’t figure it out. The woman who prided herself on reading people correctly, more than once it saved her life, couldn’t figure him out at all.

“You're like a 5000 piece puzzle.” She broke the silence.

“Oh God, why so many pieces?” he looked at her, his green eyes registering horror as he sipped the scotch placed beside his meal.

“It’s the kind you pour out on the table and you think to yourself that there's no way in hell you can do it, even if you have all summer. You stare at the picture on the box, know what it’s supposed to look like when you're done, but none of it seems possible.”

“Have another glass of wine, Detective, it might make more sense then.” Rafael grinned.

“Call me Olivia.”

“Call me Rafael.” He countered.

“Am I ever going to get the last word?” she asked.

“My gut says no, but we may have to keep meeting like this to find out.” He cut into his catfish. 

“Is that a pickup line or a challenge?”

He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. He looked at her, smirked, and then ate more of his artichoke. After that he opened his mouth to speak again, failing a second time. With nothing of significance to add, Rafael wagged his finger. 

In that moment that was something he remembered his mother used to do to him. When he took her there, she said. When there was nothing else to say because Mr. Smarty Pants had to have the last word. Many times she said it out of love. Sometimes it was just pure frustration.

“Ooh, I won.” Olivia smiled and held up a French fry in victory. “That was quick…had to be a record.”

“Only you.” He said.

“Only me what, Counselor?”

“Give me a little time and I'm sure I can find a way to clarify that statement.”

“I don’t plan on walking out anytime soon, so...” She said.

Rafael didn’t want to smile but he did. Only Olivia Benson; there were probably a million places he could go with that sentence. If neither one of them were walking out anytime soon then he might just get his chance.

***


End file.
